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Instead, I sat there staring at him like an idiot, and Atlas seemed to find that deeply entertaining. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes, and whatever he saw there must have satisfied him because the last of his amusement softened into something far more tender.

Then he kissed me.

The contact was gentle. Not demanding or possessive, just warm. A quiet apology for the misunderstanding and a promise that neither of us had to say aloud. The tension that had been wound between us since Theron first entered the conversation seemed to unravel all at once, carrying away the anger and frustration until all that remained was relief. Relief that he’d never thought that of me. Relief that I’d finally listened long enough to understand what he’d actually meant. Relief that despite everything we’d shouted at each other tonight, we’d somehow found our way back here.

When he finally pulled away, neither of us moved immediately. I remained seated on the throne, slightly breathless and entirely too aware of him, while Atlas rested his forehead briefly against mine.

“Feel better?” he murmured, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Ask me again after I’ve decided whether to forgive you.” I lied, and he knew it, as his laugh filled the throne room.

Jesus Christ, I loved that sound far more than was healthy, and it secretly bordered on obsession. And I swear he knew, as the smile lingering on his face was infuriatingly smug. But then he straightened and offered me his hand, looking altogether too satisfied with how this conversation had ended.

I should have known better, as the moment I placed my hand in his, Atlas’s eyes gleamed with a new idea, and I suddenly became very suspicious.

But that was to be my lesson learned, as I should have trusted my instincts. Because the moment that look appeared in his eyes, the one that always seemed to arrive shortly before he did something I was going to object to, I should have immediately started running again.

By the time I realized exactly what he was planning, it was already too late. The hand still holding mine tightened slightly before Atlas gave a single tug, pulling me from the throne with enough force that I stumbled directly into him. I barely had time to protest before one arm wrapped around my waist, and the floor abruptly disappeared beneath me.

“Atlas!” I cried out his name as my stomach dropped.

The idiot just chuckled as he threw me over his shoulder. The world tilted alarmingly as I found myself staring at the floor, my hair tumbling around my face while Atlas adjusted his hold on me. As though carrying furious women around the palace was something he did every day as standard.

Outrage immediately replaced surprise.

“Put me down right now!” I demanded, and yet Atlas started walking.

“Atlas. I mean it!”

Nothing.

“Atlas. Damn it!”

The man had the audacity to ignore me completely.

I twisted, attempting to free myself, but his arm merely tightened around the backs of my legs, securing me against his shoulder with infuriating ease. Being carried like this should have been humiliating. It probably was humiliating. The problem was that Atlas seemed entirely unaffected by my indignation, continuing across the throne room. Then down the corridor with the relaxed confidence of a man who had already decided the outcome of this situation and saw no reason to discuss it further.

“I am perfectly capable of walking,” I complained.

“Mm,” he muttered, and I swear my left eye started twitching.

“That wasn’t an agreement,” I pointed out.

“It wasn’t intended to be,” he replied with infuriating calm. One that came from a King who could do whatever he wished with me. The one he had claimed as his queen… Jesus, I was fucked!

I made an incoherent noise of frustration and smacked his back, yet Atlas didn’t even flinch. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely convinced he felt pain anymore.

“Seriously, come on, put me down.” I tried again, opting for calm this time.

“No. I think not.”

I scoffed incredulously before arguing, “You can’t just kidnap me.”

“I’m king.” Was his dirty response to this, making me frown down at the floor.

“That isn’t how laws work.”

“It is when you’re the one making them.”